Solitary
by Ace-of-spades3
Summary: A little while after Meteor, Reeve finds Elena and whisks her away in a heroic fashion. However, when they get in too deep with a matter that they don't understand, it's up to Yuffie and Vincent to give them a helping hand. ReevexElena, Yuffentine
1. Chapter 1

He sat at the mahogany bar, swirling his finger around in a spillage of whisky, other hand propping up his head as he tried to feign interest in the story which the drunk next to him was trying to tell. His thick near-black hair was falling in front of his dark eyes, and his dark blue tie had been pulled down languidly, top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned to show a strong collar bone. He was kinda lanky, but not ugly nor scrawny, just slightly too tall, and slightly too skinny to be proportionate, but he was the first person to laugh off any criticism about his physique. His friend had left him under the intention of 'getting lucky' with a scatty bimbo he had met not an hour and a half ago, leaving him to sink into boredom, watching as girls he deemed 'far to good for him' sailed past, smiling and laughing in contrast to his utter misery. He wasn't depressed, just feeling very sorry for himself, and he knew it. Pushing himself away from the bar, he stood up on the cranberry carpet, and fished a couple of gil notes from his black jacket, dropping one of them, waiting for it to sail gently to the floor before he picked it up. The smiled at the bartender before pocketing his change, and he downed the dregs of his glass, after which he made a beeline for the door, only stopping when the lights dimmed and the people in the bar suddenly silenced. He was a curious sort, and so the moment that he noticed a change, he immediately wanted to know what was going on. He rubbed a hand over his chin, as he was wont to do when he was intrigued by something, and he traced his scant beard along his jawbone. Walking forward slightly, not paying attention to his surroundings, he knocked into a bar stool, which he absently perched on, eyes trained ahead at the pianist who had just sat down at his instrument.

A spotlight was aimed at the far end of the room, illuminating a circle on the tall red drapes which obscured the stage behind them from sight. The man behind the piano cracked his knuckles outwards before running his fingers gently up the keys. After whispering something to himself, nodding his head in time of the beat, he finally pushed one of the ivory keys, a low sound coming from within the cherry brown instrument. The small group of people, predominantly men, cheered and hollered as a velvety, sultry voice streamed through the curtains.

"_I waited 'til I saw the sun,_

_Don't know why I didn't come..."_

A long, tan leg suddenly slipped between the two curtains, a burgundy stiletto perched delicately on the mahogany stage. As the curtains began to open with a soft purring, a blonde head was unveiled, and she tossed a corn on the cob fringe out of her wine coloured eyes. She walked towards the end of the stage with a swing of her hips, long red dress swaying with her movement, thighs exposed by the slits up the sides of her dress, sending the male populace of the bar into a little frenzy. The strapless dress was edged with gold material along the top and bottom, the same colour as the gloves which ran all the way up to her elbows, and it shimmered ever so softly under the bright light which was set on her.

"_I left you by the house of fun,  
I don't know why I didn't come,  
I don't know why I didn't come..._"

He glanced up at the stage, and took a double take when he set eyes on the beautiful woman from whom the voice was coming. His eyes opened wide, mouth dropped in surprise and, in a moment, when he had managed to gather his thoughts, he sighed in disapproval.

"When I saw the break of day,  
I wished that I could fly away,  
Instead of kneeling in the sand,  
Catching teardrops in my hand..."

He walked slowly towards the stage, weaving his way through stools and tables until he reached an empty seat towards the front of the crowd. Running a hand through his floppy brown hair, he bit his lip and watched her float around the stage, seemingly lighter than the air she breathed. Suddenly, she cried into the little black microphone with a singing voice which sounded more tragic and beautiful than any he had heard before.

"My heart is drenched in wine,  
But you'll be on my mind,  
Forever..."

She stood at the front of the stage and ran a hand up her gloved arm, tracing her bare shoulder with an outstretched index finger, drawing a line up her body until she reached her mouth, which she smiled gently with. She toyed with a golden choker around her neck, wrapping her finger around the lengths of chain which hung down from the necklace, diamante jewels glinting in the garish yellow light.

"Out across the endless sea  
I would die in ecstasy  
But I'll be a bag of bones  
Driving down the road along..."

She cast her dark eyes downwards and, on the way, she caught his own, and her smile faded briefly, and her face was the picture of surprise. The pianist looked slightly worried as she missed the musical queue, but he improvised with a well placed harmony, leaving her to pick up the lyrics from where she left them. She took a breath of air before continuing with the song, and she turned to the rest of the crowd, fake smile rejuvenated. She clutched one hand to her heart as she crooned softly once more:

"My heart is drenched in wine,  
But you'll be on my mind,  
Forever..."

She backed further onto the stage as she finished her song, and as the pianist stopped fingering the keys, she gave a low bow, before the curtains fell back into place in front of her. She could still hear the noise and the murmurs from the bar, but his face was all she could think of, and the sadness she had see in his humble, kind eyes. She gave a small moan as she kneeled down and picked up the crumpled dollar bills which littered the stage, gently smoothing them down between two fingers, pilling them on top of each other and making rolls of tens. When she had completed this little ritual of hers, she unfastened the expensive, excruciatingly heavy earrings from her ears, and set down the microphone, lying on the floor with her legs akimbo, not quite trusting herself to maintain an upright position, her limbs limp from shock. After taking a few breaths, she willed herself up, fists clenched, and she walked back to her dressing room to collect her thoughts. After pushing her way through the crowded corridor, she arrived at her door, and she gave it a frustrated kick as it opened, stiff from damp where the wood had swollen. Eventually, the stubborn door opened, and she stormed inside to sit down on the stool she had in front of her dressing table, which was littered with cards, bottles and various items of expensive looking jewelry. She ran her shaking hands through her shoulder length hair and breathed deeply, eyes closed, trying to forget the face she didn't think she's ever see again.

* * *

He got up from his chair, picking up a handful of peanuts from the bowl in the centre of the table and emptying them into his mouth, brushing the salt from his hands. As the people began to leave their seats and head once more for the bar, he heard someone say to their friend:

"Damn man. Gotta wait a whole 'nother hour till she comes on again. I swear to you, one day I'm gonna have her.

He threw the man a dirty glare, which, to his absolute annoyance, was either completely ignored or simply unnoticed. The man just walked by, oblivious to the fact that the bearded man standing by the table to his right was wishing him dead. He shook his head and walked away from all of the leering men, headed towards the door he had spied during her show, an inconspicuous door which clearly led backstage, as no one but waitresses had gone through there all night. He slipped through the push door silently; stealth had always been one of his qualities. He found himself in long, brightly-lit corridor, busy and dense with people. A man with a suit walked past him and looked him up and down, clearly taking in his slack attire and mussed up hair. The stranger sighed and grabbed Reeve by the tie and pulled him to a wall, saying in a prim voice:

"For God's sakes, you're an employee here, so act like one."

He looked at the stranger quizzically before remembering himself and nodding his head vehemently and apologizing profusely. The real employee buttoned the white shirt up to the top hole, and he pushed the knot on the tie up to near strangling point. Lastly, the employee took a comb from out of his pocket and smoothed down the unfortunate man's hair, before standing back and admiring it.

"Perfect! Now, our little star wants a glass of red, chop chop!"

The employee then walked off, and the man was left to walk along the various doors and look for the one which looked like the dressing room of the woman he wished to find. A small woman brushed into him, nearly dropping her tray, but she managed to retain her balance, and he took the opportunity to snake his hand out a take a little glass of red wine from it. He carried on walking down the hall, smiling at all of the employees who walked by, until he met a door with a cardboard cut out of a star on it. He smiled slightly before pushing the door open and peering in.

"Hey there Ellie."

Elena opened her wine colored eyes to see the tall, dark haired man she hadn't seen in two years. He was leaning on the doorframe, arms folded, red wine swilling in a glass in his right hand, mahogany eyes trained gently upon her. He held out his hand to her and she stood up and took it, before she turned her face away from his and whispered softly:

"Hey Reeve."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: thank you everyone, for your great and bountiful reviews! I'm only kidding, though it sounded bitter in my head. I have to stop with the sarcasm. However:

Ergheiz: Thanks for the first review, have a raspberry jelly bean. I didn't actually know AC was set two years after, I though thought it was just one, so sorry, just a coincidence. Hope you'll still read it, despite the lack of AC induced plot turns ;; Thanks again for the review! hugs

Now, to continue. Please R&R kiddies!

Reeve and Elena sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, the sound of the clock on the wall driving the normally patient man closer and closer to sheer frustration, and he kept glancing at the blonde woman who was sat in the stool before him. His eyes darted over her features, taking in the aesthetic changes that he could see immediately.

To be truthful, there was very little change in her, save for the fact that he had never seen her caked in a veritable mountain of make up. The most he'd ever seen on her was a swipe of lipgloss, and even then, it was only because she knew she's be seeing Tseng. Tseng... Did she ever think of him anymore? Did she think of Rude or Reno, Scarlet even, her self appointed bitch buddy? His brow creased a little as he frowned thoughtfully, eyes downcast, and he wondered to himself: Does she ever think of me anymore? Glancing back at the woman in question, he thought that the answer was probably a negative. She seemed to be the one who had moved on the most, grown away from her past. Reeve had seen Reno and Rude in the past couple of years, and their lives were pretty much empty; they had each other, and relatively steady jobs, but there was still something of their lives as Turks which lingered in them. It'd been their lives for as long as they could remember. Reeve just figured that it was hard to switch off a livelihood as quickly as they had been forced to.

Elena was chewing on the nail on her little finger distractedly, one of her idle feet tapping merrily away on one of the legs of the stool. She was staring absently at the glass of wine in front of her, one of her hands twitching as she decided whether or not it would be safe to move to grab the glass, or whether she would be breaking the taboo of the silence. Reeve was staring down at one of the blue stains on her red carpet, obviously wondering what the hell it could be, one of his fine mahogany eyebrows cocked with interest. Elena licked her lips as they began to dry, and once more she longed to reach out for the glass, but as she moved her arm, the various bracelets on her arm clinked together, and Reeve's eyes shot up to look up at her. To her great relief, Reeve walked beside her and crouched down, so that his head was at the same level as hers, and he commented gently:

"You sure took a strange career turn."

Elena took one sheepish glance at him before bursting into laughter, her eyes showing something very different to mirth. She stuck her hand out and grabbed the glass of wine, taking a long swig from the gleaming cup, coughing a little as it trickled down her choked up throat. Reeve put out an arm, touching her shoulder as she stared down at her lap, biting her lips as she tried not to make a sound akin to tears. She shook her head as she chuckled, but when she looked into Reeve's honest face, tears swelled in her burgundy eyes and began to drip down her cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around her slim frame and held her as she cried her crystalline tears into his jacket. She shook softly in his embrace, delicate little hands tightening and gripping the material beneath her fingers. Reeve rubbed his hand up her back and made whispery noises at her, calming down the tears.

"Oh Ellie..." Reeve began, but Elena cut him short when she pulled her head from off his shoulder.

"No Reeve; don't you dare pity me. Reno or Rude, sure, they've always pitied me, for my meagre abilities, my inability to do anything that they can do. But not you."

"I don't pity you Elle; I sympathise. There's as fine line dividing them, but there's definitely one there."

Elena gave him a grateful smile, not a big one, but there was certainly a ghost of a smile hovering on her lips. Reeve's eyes creased slightly as he returned it, but his somewhat tactless question was burning to be asked. He crossed his legs and sat on the floor by her feet, and he cocked his head to one side as he asked:

"Ellie, how the hell did you wind up in a place like this?"

Elena took Reeve by surprise with a laugh, and she slid down to the floor by his side, playing with a string of pearls that she had laced around her fingers. She sighed and began her sorry story with a wistful smile.

"Well, as you well know, you, me, Reno and Rude were pretty much the only ShinRa inc. members left after AVALANCHE kicked our sorry butts. Oh sorry, I forgot you helped. Well, after I moped for a couple of months, bumming 'round a friend's house with a bottle of cold Sake, she reminded me that I should probably find a job somewhere. She hooked me up with a lot of job interviews, places she's worked, places her friends had worked, and so I tried them all. For Jenova's sake, I couldn't even get a job as a secretary! A _secretary_! What's the job description there, sleep with your employer? So anyway, my friend took me here to drown my sorrows, and it was an open mike night. We decided to give it a shot, and I sang a lovely rendition of 'Eyes on Me'. Ever heard that song? It's a classic. Now, I get down off the stage, truly embarrassed, getting more applaud than I had thought possible, and I get confronted by the manager of the club, Dione De Mont. This was about a year ago, and he gave me a full time job here. The pay's great, Dione is... he's great. About two months ago, he proposed to me. We're getting married in about three weeks. I really, really..._like_ him."

Reeve's face was unreadable; There was something in his eyes, the way they shifted downwards, the incredulous crease at the sides. Elena frowned softly, her mouth opening in a soft 'o', question in her eyes. After a smile appeared on his face, her little china doll lips turned up at the corners and she breathed out her bated breath. Reeve chucked her under the chin and commented cheekily:

"Knew you'd be the first out of us lot; had to find someone to put up with you Little Canary."

Elena laughed at the nickname that she had not heard for the longest time, before sighing and looking at the creamy perfection of the string of pearls, rubbing them together softly, weaving them throughout her delicate fingers to form a Cats Cradle. Reeve watched her as she fidgeted uncomfortably,

"So...are you happy here?"

Elena looked thoughtful for a moment, remembering the sudden torrents of tears that had secreted from her own eyes not ten minutes ago. She shook her head gently, but put she hand up quickly before Reeve could question further, trying to get a chance to explain herself.

"I mean, I enjoy singing, gives me a sense of purpose. But don't think for a second that I don't hear what the men say about me. I know how it must look to you Reeve." Her eyes dulled for a moment as she whispered shamefully to him. "It may look like nothing more than a peep show to you. I mean, you've probably moved onto bigger and better things, what with being one of the 'Heroes of the Planet' and all, but it's my love, and I love what I do."

"And who you do it for, apparently," said Reeve, with a cheery smile. His smile, however, drained from his face, and he continued with a wry pout, "Besides, being a 'Hero of the Planet' isn't all it cracked up to be. We've all gone our separate ways, 'cept for Teef and Cloud. I think Barret and Red still see them sometimes, but...I don't know. My life is kind of open to change at the moment, I really haven't got much on at the mo. Basically, I'm the one who got the whole ShinRa account after they all died, so I'm living off that. After all, who else is gonna claim it? But you, hey, you've got a job, and you're getting married, it's all working out for you, right?"

To his surprise, Elena just nodded mutely, and he cocked one of his fine eyebrows with concern. Suddenly though, as if remembering her part in the conversation, she gathered her thoughts and shot him a winning smile, one that was much akin to the one he had seen painted on her face up on stage. He gingerly took one of her still gloved hands and he slipped off the shimmering material, pinched at one of the red, satin fingers and pulled until it shed itself, and, handling it like it was made of the most precious material fathomable, he examined her delicate hand and the ring on it. It was small but expensive looking piece of jewellery, a thin gold band with intricate weaving patterns of white gold on top, leading up to a small diamond, which was flanked by a pair of garnets, facets of the gems glinting in Reeve's eyes as he moved it lightly.

"It's lovely Lacey. I hope you'll be really happy."

"Yeah," confirmed Elena with a nod, "me too."

Reeve opened his mouth to respond, but the door to Elena's dressing room swung open hurriedly, and a thickset man poked his head through the door. He was an intimidating man, over six feet tall, with a heavily bulked abdomen. However, there was a gentle crease around his eyes which proclaimed no monster. His mouth moved lightly, as if he was searching for words, like a nervous child before an adult, but his eyes narrowed at Reeve, but then he returned his attentions to the star, and he spoke softly to her, despite his deep, throaty voice:

"Miss Cardinal? You're on in ten minutes." He looked once more at Reeve, and he bit his lip awkwardly and whispered to her, "is...every thing all right in here?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be ready in a moment. This is just an old friend of mine."

The man nodded and turned on his heel, but he took one more look at Elena before closing the door quietly and retreating down the hall. Reeve watched him go before asking:

"Who was that?"

"Just one of the bouncers. I don't know his name, he's never told me."

They both paused, Reeve's eyes wandering over the dressing room at all manner of memorabilia which Elena had accumulated. It was her hobby, collecting things pertaining to her favourite singers, though she went about her collection with a much healthier obsession than Dio and his famous fighters. There was a large, slightly torn poster of Julia Heartilly, curled at the edges with the colour faded, and various framed discs, carefully shone and polished, obviously taken good care of. Reeve idly wondered whether she looked after them, or whether she had someone employed to do it. He was shaken from his thoughts when Elena stood up, pulling her red glove back on and examining her face in the mirror. She picked up a swab from a pack amidst the clutter of her heavily laden dressing table and, after unscrewing a lid on a tall plastic bottle, she dipped the end of the cotton bud into the clear liquid and swiped it beneath her eyes where her thick black mascara had run. She shook her head, before saying to him sternly:

"Listen, I have to go. It was really nice seeing you Reeve."

Reeve took that as his less than subtle hint to leave, and he nodded dumbly, his mouth screwing up at the side as he accepted the fact that it was time to go. He stood up and brushed down his trousers, an automatic reaction, even though there was nothing to taint his trousers where he was sitting. He blew his long fringe away from his eyes and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, eyeing Elena as she rearranged herself frantically, glancing every minute or so at the clock. Reeve nodded to himself, before turning away from the blonde showgirl, calling to her over his shoulder:

"It was good seeing you too Ellie. I'll see you."

Elena stopped rushing around for a moment to look up at the retreating figure of the ex- Head of Urban Development. She sighed softly to herself, but jumped when Reeve turned around and said to her with a hidden firmness in his voice:

"But hey, Elle? If you ever need someone..." he paused and smiled at her, "well, you know. I'm here for you Little Canary."

Elena nodded, not daring to speak in case her breaking heart betrayed her in her voice. Reeve turned back to the door and opened it with a lightly shaking hand and, looking once more at Elena, her left the room, closing it gently and walking down the corridor which was now nearly empty. He tugged his tie back down and unbuttoned his shirt, before cramming his hands back into his pockets and leaving the bar.

* * *

Elena picked up a soft, beige, iridescent lipstick and smoothed the waxy stick over her soft, plump lips, before rubbing them together and pouting into the mirror, satisfied with the pretty face that looked back at her. She then picked up a bright red lipstick and swivelled the gold case so that the entire thing rose, and she leaned over to the mirror and began to write. The red stick of wax was soon spent, as she was pressing hard on the cool, flat surface of the mirror to make it leave an impression, and so she made her message short and sweet, before she threw it down to the floor. After rummaging through her wardrobe, she finally located a short black rain mac, which she wrapped around her slim body tightly, buttoning up the double breasted front and tying the belt. She took down her old poster and rolled it into a cylinder, before tucking that into the coat with her and approaching the door. She gave the room a swift look back, before biting down on her bottom lip with determination, and slamming the door behind her. She looked up and down the hall and, as she found it now empty, she walked confidently to the fire door and slid out, closing the door on the bar.

* * *

Reeve lingered in the street, waiting by a flickering streetlight as he vainly waited for a bus. He knew that the next one wouldn't arrive for about half an hour, and so he had resigned himself to fate and given up trying to hide from the near torrential rain. He glanced at his watch through his sopping wet bangs that fell before his face, but sighed as he realised that the hands had stopped turning. He shook it about, but had already realised that the rain must have gotten into the watch's glass casing. He growled and looked for something to kick, and the lamppost seemed like a convenient target, but when he did kick it, the flickering light blacked out completely, along with all the other lamps in the street. His hands flew to his mouth, and he garbled and cursed to himself, but when a voice behind him spoke, he stood up and tried to look innocent. 

"Reeve, you've always been clumsy, no point trying to hide it."

Reeve immediately recognised the voice, and as he peered through the veil of rain, he jumped back, startled. He ran towards the figure, brushed her soggy blonde hair out of her face and called to her through the noise of the downpour and the thunder:

"Laney!"

"Reeve..." Elena whispered in his ear, "Reeve, take me home."

* * *

Har har! Now we can get this party started! Review and I'll give you all cinnamon flavoured jellybeans!


	3. Chapter 3

**Abligail: **K, dude, I appreciate the intensity of your review, truly, but that's slightly scary ;; And less of the 'Hun', hm? I'm not your girlfriend. Yes man, I know you're disappointed, but I don't swing the correct way. Keep reading, I'll remind you.

**Chaotic Pink Chocobo**: Love the name! It's very cool! If I had a chaotic pink Chocobo I'd name him Pogo Thanks for the review! I was reading your profile, I love like, all of the Final Fantasy pairings that you do, but especially Vincent and Yuffie. I don't know why I like them so much, I can't really explain it, I just think that they're plain and simply great! And you know that new Vincent game, Dirge of Cerberus? I think, other than Reeve, Yuffie is the only FFVII character on there! Coincidence? I think not! By the way, Play Date at the Gold Saucer is freakin' hilarious. Wouldn't you love a date at the Gold Saucer. In fact, I'd just love a Gold Saucer, I demand that you build me one. This fic is postponed until construction is in progress! For being great, have a Pumpkin flavoured jelly bean. They're nutritious!

**Ergheiz**: Well then, next time I won't even check my reviews! I'll get a whole other paragraph written! That's...that's a promise I can't keep P It was very nice what you said about my story though Thanks!

Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

The bouncer watched Elena flee through the rain, her shock of blonde hair conspicuous, even in the dullness of the storm. She was hugging her coat tightly around herself, and his eyes were trained upon her as she turned the corner, the same corner he had seen the bearded man walked round not five minutes ago. He thought back for a moment, remembering his orders, remembering what he was paid for. He stood on the spot for a moment, eyes not moving from the corner, hands twitching clumsily beside his thighs, biting his bottom lip gently as he toyed over what to do. What if she was only saying good bye to her old friend? Maybe he'd left something in her room, she was just returning it? Two minutes passed, minutes in which he had craned his head to try and see if she would return, but he soon realised what had happened, and he reluctantly hung his head, before turning round and slipping through the double doors which led to one of the stock rooms.

* * *

"She what?"

"I...I saw her, she was going after a man she said was an old friend of hers."

"You let her go?"

"I thought she might be coming back, she... I didn't know what to do."

"Check her room. She may have left something, a clue."

The bouncer turned and began to leave the room, mumbling a noise of confirmation, but he stopped in his tracks when the man's voice streamed after him. The voice, harsh and malignant, flickered with something snide and viciously clever, and Riole wished for nothing more than for the voice to cease.

"Oh, and Riole? Send some men to her apartment. Shake up her roommate a bit, she what she knows."

A deep frown appeared on Riole's face, and he started forward, hand outstretched as if vying for permission to speak, and one of the man's eyebrows lifted inquisitively. The bouncer stumbled over his words for a second, stuttering slightly as the man's harsh brown eyes looked deeply into his face. Finally, Riole managed to spit it out, and he murmured gently:

"It's j-just... I've never seen the man before an-and, well, I just, I don't think that she, her roommate, will know about it, that's all Sir, sorry."

"You're probably right Riole. However, we can't be sure until we try, can we. In fact, why don't you go. Make sure the men are doing their jobs." There was something in his voice which left no room for argument, and he continued grimly: "Now go on Riole. Come to me when you've seen her room."

"Yes sir, Dione, sir," concluded Riole with a sad nod, before he turned round and left the room.

Riole pushed open the door of Elena's room and peered about, lost amongst the clutter of woman's things. He instinctively went to the chest of drawers first, searching about the top, looking at notes, perfumes, everything and anything that she owned. He rifled through her drawer, gasping nervously as he encountered all manner of undergarments, but looked closer when he came across a pair of navy blue underwear with a slip of paper in them. He pulled out the paper and found that it was in fact a photograph, with five people on it.

* * *

He examined the people, mouth ajar with confusion. There was one, a red head with strange green eyes, who was pulling a strange face into the camera, pulling his bottom eyelids down and poking out his tongue. He had odd scars going down his cheeks, like scratch marks, and a pair of goggles around his forehead. Beside him was a tall bald man who dwarfed the redhead, who had an unmissable solemnity about the straight line of his thin lips, mystery aroused by the presence of the sunglasses when they were clearly indoors. The little blonde one was Elena, with a slight tinge to her cheeks as she looked to the tall Oriental man beside her, a cheeky smile on her flawless face, hand reaching nervously into the photograph as she managed a wave at the camera. The Oriental man with the long black hair was smiling serenely into the camera, obviously Wutain heritage given away by the slight upturn in his brown eyes, clear olive skin and the small dot on his forehead. Behind his head, two renegade fingers were sticking up like bunny ears, and the owner of the fingers was pretending to whistle innocently as he looked away casually, pretending not to be in the picture at all. He was a tall, lanky man, but he was still shorter than both the bald man and the Oriental man. He had mahogany-coloured hair, and a similar coloured beard, and Riole recognised him immediately. Four of the people, one of whom was the missing Elena, were wearing navy blue suits, but the man who had been there earlier wasn't wearing a jacket at all. He looked relaxed, happy, and incredibly mischievous, half of his thick hair falling before his eyes, white sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was definitely the man he was looking for.

Riole tucked the photograph into his hip pocket, before carefully replacing all of Elena's stray underwear, closing the drawers, and prowling around the rest of the room with a face like a Doberman, keen to find what he could. Once he got into it, the job began to become methodical, almost relaxing. He turned swiftly to the dressing table, hand outstretched to rifle through her belongings, but he stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed that his reflection was marred by streaks of red on the mirror. He moved slowly closer, eyes taking in the words, lips moving as his tongue rolled over the syllables. He shook his head as he wet his dry lips, throat constricted by the nervousness and moral issues which ran through his mind. He sighed sadly before leaving the room and heading towards Dione's office.

The mirror attached to the dressing table shone with the reflected yellow light of Elena's dressing room, but her elaborate script still flowed stark over the water-like surface.

'So sorry D. Been great, but have better things to do in my life. Thanks for opportunities. E xxx'

* * *

"Where do we go from here, Elle?"

Perched on a soaking wooden bench, dripping with rain, Elena shrugged gently and turned to Reeve. His thick hair was drenched, and it fell in front of his eyes with a dark, watery flow akin to tar being poured onto a road. His eyes were set dead ahead, his hands clasped on his knees and Elena smiled and stretched out and took one, giving it a tight squeeze. His eyes swung lazily to meet hers, and she said softly:

"I... haven't seen my parents since I became a Turk. It's been four years, no phone call, no letters. You know the rules, commitment with no apron strings. They haven't seen me since I was eighteen, but it's not to late. Reeve, please take me to see them."

Reeve ran his hand through his sopping hair, before giving it a dog-like shake and blowing the water from his face. Rainstorms in Midgar were an irregular occurrence but, when they did happen, they were torrential. Families would take their children out in rainstorms, tiny, fragile, excited little things, swamped in waxen, waterproof cloth, drip drop of water on their faces like novelty bathing.

Reeve remembered back when he was a child, when his mother was still alive, when his dad was still around, and they had taken him to the park, to play amongst the sodden wood chippings and the flooded tarmac basketball courts, skidding with his waterlogged trainers so that all he could smell was damp and tyre burn. Then his mother died of mako poisoning, from when their house pipe burst. They had had to burn the body, to avoid fear of her corpse mutating, and at that moment, when the damp and tyre burn had been replaced by burnt flesh, that was when Reeve grew up. Seven years worth of experience, twenty years worth of pent up wisdom and bitterness. Didn't help that his father, having resorted to drink, decided to make a new home far, far away from Reeve, leaving the lost pre-teen to make his own way to the orphanage. Rain was pretty much the only happy memory that he had of his mother, so that was sure a happy family. He felt his eyes begin to sting, and he turned away from Elena once more and gritted his teeth with determination.

Elena, on the other hand, being born in Costa Del Sol, was not yet accustomed to the Midgar rainfall, infrequent as the showers were, and so being soaked by something which was neither sea nor bath water was consistently unpleasant for the blonde ex-Turk. She shivered delicately in the cold as she awaited Reeve's answer and, soon enough, his head bobbed in approval and, in a hoarse voice, he said to her:

"Sure thing Elle. Costa Del Sol, right?"

"Right."

Elena studied his features carefully, his head not moving, eyes wavering slightly, little bit of thin bottom lip tucked tightly between his teeth. She wanted to reach out and wipe the drops of water from his cheeks, saline teardrops which he would try and pass for raindrops. What, or whom, did he cry for? She was suspicious that she would never know, but she felt her own throat tighten, her own eyes burn for aridity. Why was she always so temperamental? She blamed it on hormones, maybe even the dreaded 'crimson wave' as Reno so politely put it. Reno...Rude, Tseng, hell, even bloody Scarlet. Reeve had brought back a slice of her life that she thought she'd never see, _feel_ again, she was allowed to cry, damn it! Screw hormones and screw the crimson wave, she felt a downpour of tears approaching, and before Reeve could stop her, she's buried her head in his shoulder and began to weep herself silly.

* * *

Kisha stopped dancing lightly around her apartment in response to the knock at her door, placing her glass of wine on the coffee table and heading towards the door. The leviathan fish in her fish tank glugged at her, as if in question, and the young Wutaian woman shrugged her shoulders and replied:

"I don't know. It's not like anyone to call round this late."

She approached the door and looked through the peep hole in the centre of the door, but she couldn't see anything but black. She shook her head in confusion, before assuming that the glass was broken and opening the door to see who it was.

The man in front of her took his black, gloved finger off of the peep hole and stared at her simply. The three men behind him, were heavily set, bulky with muscle and as intimidating on their own as they were in a group. Kisha frowned and leaned on her leg, arms folded across her chest, mouth pouted in question.

"What do you want? Do you have any idea how late it is?"

The man in front of her pointed towards her apartment, and the three men flanking him all pushed by her and began rummaging through her apartment. Kisha tried to push at them to stop them, screaming to high heaven, but the apparent leader grabbed her by her forearms and pulled her to meet his eyes. He whipped a lock knife from his pocket and placed it carefully under her chin, and Riole said firmly to her:

"Shut up. Get in there and start talking. You know something, and we're going to find out what."

* * *

R&R please children! First reviewer gets a peanut flavoured jelly bean! 


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